11: 16 a.m.
Tending to collect self wherever music is playing,
listening to it with a heart full of joy, being
taken into realms of the unknown.
Perfect pitch, falling into perfect sense, giving
an essence of unexpected beauty for life.
Taking every step, listening for the next one as
it flows into being, just like these words are
doing right now.
A blessed event happening in my soul every time
when writing while listening to music. 11: 17 a.m.
(10/25/14)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem